Quinn's Backstory
by Dianagasm
Summary: I set out to make a Pathfinder character based on Harley Quinn that fit into our current campaign. From there I mixed Forgotten Realms lore with Pathfinder mechanics and bits and pieces of Harleen Quinzel's story. We're still in the early stages now but you'll see more of the Clown Princess of Gotham and how she develops as the story continues


Most people underestimate the importance of looking just a certain way. Clothing, accent, the wariness one shows toward other people, the way a person carries themselves, right down to how a person says hello...it all culminates into a sort of formula that others can take in with a glance or a few words of conversation to know if you're "the right sort" to be around them. A person watches other people long enough and they learn that being "the right sort" is all about belonging and belonging isn't so much knowing someone and being friendly as it is just _looking_ and _sounding_ like they belong. Fake it, 'til you make it. When that thought is applied to everyday life there's a lot a person can accomplish; like fitting in with a group of desert nomads with dark skin and eyes when you happen to have outlander blood giving you blue eyes and blond hair...among other attributes that took a surprisingly long time to discover.

Keep your _kufiya_ on your head and have a little dirt on your face to keep your skin tone hidden and pretty soon you stop getting picked on quite as much. Quinn had picked that up early after realizing that her mother's nameless title as "that outlander" carried a distinctly disapproving tone. Born of the Qahtan Tribe, Quinn knew little beyond her people's traditions and culture. She'd never known her mother and her father had a passing relationship with her. In that he often passed her wordlessly while getting ready for his next outing as a caravan guide along The Black Road; something many of the Bedine did for the merchants trying to make their way across the Anauroch.

There were two options if you were Bedine, you either raided merchant caravans or you help guide them. The Qahtan had chosen to ally themselves with merchants as guides. Though, _guide_ might be a strong word. The Bedine were a rough people, used to a hard life and had very little compassion for the pudgy, soft merchants that would attempt to cross their lands. The basic idea was that they'd lead you from oasis to oasis but if you were dumb enough to drink your water in the first day you would get none of their share. And should you die of thirst, well, a fool's fate is often deserved and _someone_ would need to make use of your goods. That was life in the Anauroch, dry, full of empty spaces, and likely to leave you with sand in all your creases by the end of the day. Things were boring and there were few options in the world.

From a very early age Quinn was made to understand that there was something very different about her but given no indication as to what that difference was. It had to be something more than simply her blond hair and blue eyes because no amount of good behavior, no measure of being the best example of what a Bedine tribeswoman was and did changed how people interacted with her. Or how they didn't. When her father was away she was watched closely by one of the Sheikh's many wives and was rarely allowed to play with other children. When her father was home he kept her close to him in ways other children weren't guarded.

Very quickly, Quinn realized that this was not a symptom of over-protectiveness of her person but a watchful presence of her very being. Within a tribe isolated from the great wide world she was isolated even more. Never was she able to have friends of her own age, never was she left to wander the camps at will. When she would do her chores her life was filled with moral-laden stories about doing the right thing and being the purest soul of Bedine culture, as if she needed a daily reminder of what was _being good_ meant.

At the age of five Quinn had the distinct feeling that she was somehow _wrong_ and her strict upbringing was somehow to keep her in line despite never having stepped out of it. Worse, she suspected that her isolation from the rest of the tribe was not to protect her from them but for them to be protected from her. With a growing sense of apprehension at her own existence and what strangeness had lead to her segregation from her own people Quinn had labored to become the perfect example of a Bedine woman.

But then, when the City of Shade appeared in the sky when Quinn was eight years old the world got a little bigger and a lot more interesting. There'd always been stories, of course, about the Netherese and Karsus' Folly though many were old and twisted by time and mostly used to teach Bedine children the evils of magic and disobeying their elders. But how bad could magic be if it made a city float? At six years old, Quinn witnessed something weird. Something unearthly. And she decided she wanted to grow up to be both of those things.

There was suspicion from her people, of course, when Shade appeared above the Sea of Shadow and that only got worse when the city's affiliation with the Goddess Shar was discovered. Especially when doomsayers starting spouting semi-prophecy of the Shadovar one day conquering Cormyr or prophecies of the fall of Myth Drannor in some vague and dramatic doom. It didn't help that Shade _insisted_ on referring to itself as an _Empire_ despite only having just the one floating city left. There were rumors that they wanted to expand their influence and regain their former glory but these were things the Bedine didn't worry themselves with.

The things they _were_ concerned with, however, were the many expeditions into the Anauroch that Shade was soon funding. One of the Princes of Shade seemed very interested in finding the remains of the Empire of Netheril and that meant hiring guides to lead his people through the Anauroch. The Bedine were most used to traveling the Black Road and not into the uncharted depths of the desert but wealth and adventure was often enough promise for the Bedine who believed their actions and bravery would be judged on the Fugue Plane after their death.

Quinn's father, Utaiba, was one of many that volunteered when the Shadovar came asking among the Bedine camps. The Shadovar were...different than the people that Quinn had grown up seeing. Most were simply accustomed to the Shadow Realm in which they'd lived for generations; pale and gaunt with eyes that were sensitive to the Anauroch sun. Color seemed to have been leeched from them in years away from the material plane. Their skin was mostly a pale white, sometimes an ashen grey, and their eyes were almost always between black and shades of grey. They dressed oddly, like the fashions of their people had not changed since Shade had left the Material Plane. Many sported the same styles as when Netheril was in it's prime but these too, seemed to have been stripped of their color as if no brightness could survive for long in the Shadow Plane.

They spoke oddly, and Quinn would practice in quiet moments, rolling the accent around her in her mouth like the first sip of fresh water upon reaching a new oasis. It had notes like her own accent but older, an ancestor of the Bedine voice. The Netherese refugees had fled after Karsus' Folly and many had settled with the Bedine, unable to move far from their fallen home. The Bedine accent was as harsh and sharp as the desert winds but the Netherese felt...softer and at the same time, colder. An accent for people that spent less time navigating the harsh terrain and more time navigating the intrigue and subterfuge of expensive parties and political court.

While these were oddities, to be sure, they were just considered to be strange in the same way most outlanders were and their paleness and discomfort in the bright sun of the desert was considered just further proof of their status as "Outlanders" in the Bedine's desert home. It was overlooked though many Bedine did find they were uncomfortable with the returned Netherese who often spoke as if all of that Anauroch were _theirs_ despite their inability to cross it on their own.

The most important thing to the Bedine, though, was that they were wealthy in a magical sense and willing to provide items that the tribesman would find useful: cloaks and other magical items that would resist the harsh elements of the desert climate as well as magical decanters of water that would produce an endless supply of fresh water with a command word. These were received differently by each of the 100 tribes. Some seemed intrigued while others grew more suspicious and actively avoided the Netheril due to their general distrust of magic.

The Qahtan, though, were considered a bit more progressive after having worked more closely with the merchants along The Black Road. They'd seen magic and been exposed to it and found that the evil the doctrines predicted depended more on the _man_ using that magic than the magic itself. Of all the 100 tribes, they were most lenient on the banning of magic and once word got around that these items were available the Qahtan were more than willing to overlook the Shadovar's strangeness. Even overlooking the further strangeness of their Princes. As such, they were the tribe most often sought out by the denizens of Shade.

Mostly, there were just the two princes, though it was rumored that there were many more in Shade. The High Prince Telamont Thanthul had twelve sons, it was said, each another prince. Quinn didn't know much about royalty as the Bedine had tribal leaders known as sheikhs and a council of elders instead of kings and these were denoted by the decorative _igal_ holding their _kufiya_ to their heads but a bunch of princes running around didn't seem quite right, did it? If there were princes there was _supposed_ to be a king, right? But there the people of Shade were, with a High Prince leading around his Princely sons with not a king in sight. _But then_ , Quinn thought after seeing the two Princes for the first time, _maybe the same rules don't apply to the likes of them._

They were different than the other Shadovar, while the "normal" Shadovar were pale and gaunt the Princes seemed to have been changed by the Shadow Plane in far more significant ways. They first appeared in the camps with the pomp and ceremony that Quinn had previously only heard of in stories from merchants traveling the Black Road. They arrived with soldiers, some Shadovar and others; the tall humorless creatures Quinn came to recognize as the Krinth that made up the bulk of the returned armies of the Netherese Empire. The Krinth were hulking, greyish beasts that looked less human and more like forgotten cousins of the race. They rarely smiled and when they did they always seemed to have more teeth than was appropriate to ever look friendly. And yet, the Princes were worse.

When Quinn was approaching her seventeenth year, two of the Princes arrived in the Qahtan camp. The two Quinn met were twins; Mattick and Vannick Tanthul, and they seemed to have left whatever humanity they'd once had back in the Shadow Plane. Their hair appeared to be true deepest black, not the deep brown seen in the Bedine people, a color that Quinn had only seen in horses and orcs previously. The deep hue struck Quinn unsettling to see though she couldn't put her finger on why. Their skin was a dark grey that almost seemed to shift in hues of darkness as they passed under the shadows of their sigil banners. They each had identical high cheekbones, dark eyes that bordered on black, and wisps of smoke seemed to flow from them.

They came to the camp as the sun was setting; not an unusual time for the Bedine to see visitors in the camp as they avoided strenuous activity during the heat of the day. The sun was only just setting but as they appeared it seemed to get darker in the camp, as if their presence brought a piece of the Shadow Plane with them. The Shadovar and Krinth had marched but the two Princes sat upon horses that looked half wild, their coats as deep a black as the Princes' hair and armor as they snorted and stomped at the cooling sand.

Sigil banners barely fluttered in the still desert air, a set of two images held aloft by the beefy Krinth in their menacing black armor, to represent the twin scions. Bearing the images of two interlocking rings in either gold-for Mattick the elder twin-or silver-for Vattick, the younger of the two- outlined in purple on a field of charcoal grey. A third banner, held near the back in a place that seemed to say that it was much less important depicted a silver sphere over three jutting mountain peaks on a field the color of the desert sands, an ochre with hints of red at it's core. They approached the Sheikh, recognizing him by the dyed camel hair _igal_ studded with polished garnet stones upon his _kufiya_ and Quinn was not the only tribesman that seemed to linger in their chores near the group of dark clad men.

Zarud was an aging man but he had become Sheikh of the Qahtan Tribe with the approval of the council of elders not for his prowess as a warrior-though the stories of his youth were full of, likely exaggerated, adventure- but for his mind as a skillful businessman and prudent arbitrator. He folded his hands across his substantial stomach just below a long beard that was now more silver than the deep brown of his youth and though his mouth was set in a stern line Zarud bowed his head to the two upon their horses. "Esteemed Ones, let us welcome you. We can provide camel milk and hospitality in my tent if you have business in the tribe this night."

One of the Princes, _maybe the Elder one?_ Quinn thought, sniffed at that. Here Zarud was offering the milk of the tribe and these Outlanders acted as if this were a distasteful offer. Perhaps, in their floating city where _everything_ was said to be magical they didn't appreciate creatures like camels that provided so much to the Bedine. Their hair for clothing, their backs for long journeys, their meat when the hunters could find nothing in the stark desert. A camel's milk was a great blessing and Zarud's offer to share was a show of deference the princes did not seem to notice or care for. "That," started the prince Quinn thought might be the Elder, "will _not_ be necessary." The words seemed poured out of his mouth, they way he said them. A slower way of talking than the sharp Bedine accent.

Quinn noted the way his R sounds rolled a little before continuing but the As and Es were clipped and sharp like fast rain tapping the sand. She practiced the cadence of the accent in her head a bit, some sounds drawn out and nasally, others clipped and sharp. He spoke common, not knowing the Midani language, and despite this many of the tribesman noted the disdain in his tone of voice. Zarud, to his credit, let his eyes widen in shock for only a moment before composing himself and bowing his head slightly once more. "Then, esteemed guests, what can the tribe offer you?'

The Prince looked down with a slight scornful tilt to his lips but Quinn got the distinct impression that this was a somewhat set expression on his face and not an indication of his personal feelings toward Zarud and the rest of the Qahtan tribe but rather how he looked at the whole world. "We're mounting an expedition. This will be more _difficult_ than previous explorations. Our brother, Prince Brennus Tanthul, has discovered what he theorizes might be the resting place of the fallen enclave Hlaungadath." The name in old Netherese meant little to the Bedine and Zarud chose to remain silent so that the Prince could further explain.

Now the second prince nudged his horse slightly forward and cleared his throat. "The enclave fell to the North West. Some six hundred miles from here on the Black Road." North? As far as Quinn knew, no Bedine traveled _North_. Despite the time the nomadic tribes often spent on the Black Road, their true home was The Sword, a stretch of desert nearly two hundred miles South of where they were now camped. Currently, they were a mere seventy miles from from the City of Shade at a small oasis mid-way along The Black Road. The Qahtan were no strangers to long journeys but the distance wasn't their concern. The area of the Black Road had sparse but easily traversed stretches between oases but that wasn't true for other stretches of the Anauroch where a man could often travel a several days without finding even a diggable source of water.

"Hlaungadath is theorized to have fallen at the edge of the realm we've been informed is now called the High Ice. Getting there will require traversing the Plain of Standing Stones and will most likely come with dangers and perilous terrain we've not encountered before. As such, we're requesting the aid of no less than thirty warriors and guides to accompany us." Murmurs rippled through the milling Qahtan, the Plain of Standing Stones was not a hospitable place even by the standards of the Bedine who were used to rationing food and water.

"Esteemed Ones," Zarud said bowing his head once more and causing the polished garnets adorning his _igal_ to flash in the waning light, "The Plains are a dangerous place to travel and crossing them is... there are few who would take on such a task without being accused of being afflicted with A'tar's Madness." Zarud said, naming the sickness of A'tar the Merciless, the sun goddess that would often take those that had gone too long unprotected in her glorious rays. "Taking such a large expedition would mean certain death for many, if not all involved." _Not to mention that thirty of the tribe leaving at once would leave us at a severe disadvantage._ Quinn thought, the Qahtan were a large tribe but they only numbered around 150 strong.

The first prince, Mattick, spoke up while wisps of shadow seemed to gather around he and his brother. "We're aware of the areas reputation and have planned accordingly." He twisted in his saddle slightly, lifting a flap on a saddle bag that had previously been hidden by a long cloak slung across his shoulders. "This," he said, lifting a familiar decanter that many of the Qahtan had seen or at least heard of, "is a Decanter of Water and every tenth man will be entrusted with one providing you with the water you need to make the journey." Covetous murmurs moved through some the Qahtan.

"And these," the Prince continued, lifting another item in his hand that appeared to be a pair of bracers "will allow the wearer to endure both the heat of the Plains, as well as the bitter cold of the High Ice. Each volunteer will receive a pair and should our expedition prove successful the Empire of Netheril is willing to grant them to the Qahtan as a boon in thanks for your aid." _Fancy way of saying that you get to keep your stuff if you survive what should be impossible_ , Quinn thought, her mouth quirked to one side.

The Qahtan, like most of the Bedine, didn't practice magic themselves. Having integrated with the refugees of Netheril their culture hosted long held beliefs of how magic could corrupt and weaken a person. How the use of magic could slowly degrade their honor. However, under the guidance of Sheikh Zarud and at the behest of many of the younger tribesman it had been decided that using the items created by someone _else's_ magic should be okay so long as the Qahtan didn't come to rely on them too heavily. Besides, they were just so _useful_ and the Qahtan were a pragmatic people though other tribes were less understanding of their choices.

She wondered then just how many of their guides the Netherese Princes were planning on losing on their way to this mysterious city. _Thirty warriors and guides with who knows how many of their own along. A caravan like that would be a target seen for miles on the Plain. Worse, if word of the magical items the party carried were to get around..._ Well, not all the Bedine tribes had chosen trade over raid and there were still Bedine tribes that harbored a fanatical hatred for magic. Condemning not only their own use of it but others' as well. The Raz'hadi, especially were dangerous and had condemned the Qahtan before the council of elders and petitioned for the Qahtan's water rights to be revoked. The Elders had refused but the Raz'hadi, lead by a fearsome warrior Sheikh called Sabikhat, had been particularly interested in raiding the Black Road caravans lead by the Qahtan ever since.

Quinn heard a few whispers that seemed to coincide with her own concerns but an equal amount of eager speculation about the decanters and bracers. Those her own age were the most inclined toward the offered magical items while the older tribesman like her father Utaiba still stubbornly refused to allow even the more mundane magical items to be used in his presence. _Would he refuse this expedition, then?_ Quinn mentally scoffed at the idea before it even solidified in her mind. It was far more likely that her father would insist on coming along but refuse the proffered items to prove that the _old way_ was still the _best way_. His distrust of magic was almost as strong as that of the Raz'hadi and strangely, it seemed to connect with Quinn's mother somehow.

She'd never worked up the courage to ask about the woman. All she really knew was that she was blond and blue eyed as Quinn herself was and that none of the Qahtan would speak her name…if they even _knew_ her name. Quinn didn't even know what it was and had spent the first years of her life thinking her name actually _was_ "That Outlander" before realizing that it was the Qahtan way of saying things without saying them. Quinn's mother hadn't belonged for some reason and, by proxy, neither did Quinn. She assumed, once she was old enough to notice his absence, that their distaste for her mother was the same reason Utaiba seemed to avoid her.

It wasn't until trading with the City of Shade had started that Utaiba had let something about Quinn's mother slip. Quinn still wasn't sure _what_ that something was but it was more than she'd ever had. It had happened when Quinn was eight and nearing an age when she would start being given more tasks and chores within the tribe which allowed her access to many places she'd been forbidden from before. The Shadovar had recently hired guides for a smaller expedition searching for lost Netherese artifacts and knowledge. Those tribesmen had returned with magical trinkets found in the ruins that the Shadovar had considered so mundane as to not need to be recovered. To the Bedine people, however, who had been sheltered from and resistant to magic since Karsus' Folly the items they brought back were wondrous…

 **ooo0o0o0o0o0o0o0ooo**

They were magic, floating, _glowing_ , stones. The Shadovar called the Ioun Torches and they came in different shapes though mostly prisms and small spheres had survived over the years. The stones were a soft grey color but once activated they would float above the bearer giving off a soft light that allowed the bearer of the stone to keep their hands free while able to see in the dark of the night. Quinn had been fascinated by them though many of the older Qahtan had looked at the stones with stubborn distrust.

One of the returning guides had left a stone unattended and Quinn hadn't had to think for long about the morality of "borrowing" it for a while. Utaiba had found her sitting below a small palm tree shortly before dawn, her face upturned to the glowing stone she had floating above her with a soft light. She'd felt joy in that moment, staring at the strange magical _thing_ that she barely understood but that felt as if it had opened the world for her even further than the city's sudden return to the sky had five years before. It was _beautiful_ in a way that nothing in great expanse of the Anauroch had ever been.

She'd been enthralled by it, wondering at its origin, its history and beauty; and had let the world around her fade from her awareness. Enraptured as she was with the magical device she was unsure how long Utaiba had stood in the darkness outside her magical pool of light, his fury growing as he stared down at his oft neglected daughter. He'd stalked through the soft sand of the oasis, his shoulders tense and brows furrowed under the plain _kufiya_ he wore. "Quinn! _Al-Hadhar tarab mish kwayis samm!_ " He shouted in Midani, a condemnation of magic as an outlander poison.

Quinn jumped with a small yelp of surprise " _Ybbah_!" a Midani phrase that roughly translated to "Ah! Papa!" The Midani language was funny like that, you could say in a word what essentially mean "Holy crap, dad!" in a word but a mouthful of words like _"Es salam alekum."_ was the same as saying hello in Common. Utaiba continued in Midani: "You should not be messing with these magics, by N'asr, have you learned nothing of our history!?"

Quinn snatched the stone from the ground where it had fallen and held it clutched in her tiny fist as her father stood over her. "But, Papa! It's just a rock of light! What harm can it do?"

His face looked like his brows were trying to squeeze together so tightly that they might split his face. "What harm can it do? What harm? Cities fell from the sky, child! This desert, as far as it reaches in A'tar's sight, is the product of magic! It will always, always cause ruin and pain!" The tan _aba_ over her father's simple clothing strained at the shoulders as he held himself taut, his hands moving in tight furious gestures. "Magic, _all_ magic, is dangerous!"

Quinn squared her shoulders, refusing the be cowed by her father's wrath. He was a tall man, like most of the Bedine and he towered over her, his anger evident in his rigid stance and the way his hands clenched at his side. While, as a female, Quinn's _kufiya_ was equipped with a thin bit of cloth to cover her lower face, her father's did not and so she could see the deep lines of his face creased by sun and time. He suddenly seemed much older then, those lines seeming to be the product of more than just years in the Anauroch sun. She pulled herself up, taking a square shouldered stance she'd observed in warriors and tried to make her eyes convey a calmness she didn't feel. "This is good magic. It's helpful. Think, papa, we could use these in the night when camels stray from the herd. We won't have to send the young ones of the tribe out to find them without light. Why do we fight against magic when it can be helpful?"

Utaiba's mouth opened briefly before snapping shut as something flashed across Utaiba's face; for a moment it looked as if he would shout something at her but he seemed almost to wrench his whole body in an effort to restrain himself back. He took a deep breath and looked momentarily calmer. "Child…there have been many men in this world that thought they were being helpful. That thought their…understanding of things was the true understanding. They thought that they knew right and wrong for others when…hmm."

He bent down slowly, his body slowly relaxing with what appeared to be great effort. He placed his dark, tanned hands down on each of Quinn's small shoulders and his eyes looked suddenly kinder. "Magic can be very useful, _Aziir_ ," He often called her that, a name meaning "scimitar" he'd given her when she realized and asked why he didn't wear the traditional weapon on his waist as most of the tribesman did. A man's scimitar was a sign of his personal honor, many warriors carrying more and more magnificent scimitars as their reputation grew, but Utaiba had always worn a heavy two-handed hammer on his back and no other weapon besides his _jambiya_ , the curved dagger on his belt. "You see, that's the problem, it is so very useful. And a man that wants to be helpful thinks to himself 'Why stop with lights? I could make our hunters stronger, faster, and then the tribe would always have food.' And he does this then, thinking it is a very good thing for the tribe. Then the other tribes, who don't have this magic are at a disadvantage. If all our hunters are catching all the food then what will they do, little _Aziir_?"

Quinn thought for a moment, her own small shoulders finally relaxing under her father's heavy weather-beaten hands. "I…I suppose they will be hungry?"

Utaiba nodded slowly, "Hungry, yes, and very possibly angry. Why should we get to eat and they shouldn't? Isn't that a bit like cheating them? Their hunters are strong and smart like ours but magic would make it easy for us and that would make things harder for them, yes? And so, these hungry men, they decide to take this magic from us—"

"But we could share the magic!" Quinn interrupted before he could finish. "No one would have to be hungry!"

Sadly, Utaiba shook his head. "This land, this vast desert isn't the same as the lands you hear stories of from the merchants. Lands where water is so plentiful that the peoples don't need to travel from one oasis to the next. Not every man, woman, and child can eat all the time. That hunger, the pain in your stomach, is N'asr's reminder that life will always return to him. So, soon, you'll find that one tribe is fighting against another for the magic that keeps them fed. Many people will die and why, _Aziir_?" Quinn's mouth twisted into a hard, stubborn line and she looked down to her dirty boots refusing to answer. "Because, _Aziir_ , someone thought he could be helpful."

He started away from her then, toward the oasis water where many dozens of water skins had been left submerged to fill and also dampen the leather so it wouldn't dry and crack on the long journey to the next source of water. He must have felt that he had made his point, that she understood and was ready to head back to their tent. "No." She lifted her hand and activated the Ioun Torch so that it lit her small frame in a pool of light. "I don't believe that. I don't believe that something this beautiful can be wrong!"

He turned around slowly, that tense anger had returned to his body. His jaw clenched as he took in the light and her small frame bristling with its own anger. " _Aziir_ …" he started slowly.

"No! There doesn't have to be all or nothing. People are not all one thing or another, look at Shade! They are people but they are different than us. Don't they still need to eat, to drink? They use magic and they don't kill us and we don't kill them. Magic doesn't have to be evil, it doesn't have to be poison. It can be as good and beautiful as this. It's just light! I know it! I _know_ it, I know I'm right." Her tiny foot stomped in the dirt and she felt a red hot rage she'd never experience before flow through her. He must have seen something in her face then for he drew back for a moment, a look of shock on his face but a moment later her rage was answered with equal fervor by her father's.

"You know it, child!? You know!? Do you think to know all men and women, to know their motivations and thoughts? When I was young, I thought like you. Thought I could tell at a glance what was happening in the world. I was proud, child, and I have paid that _diyya_ and my _akeud_ is fulfilled but since your mother I—" His mouth snapped shut with an audible click, the anger appeared to drain from him all in a moment and a very tired man that Quinn barely recognized stood before, a sadness in his face she'd never seen from him. Before she could begin the questions barely forming in her mind, he threw his arms in the air. "I will be at the tent." Quinn watched, stunned as he retreated into the night.

" _Diyya_? _Akeud_?" These were old words, so old that they were mostly ideas in the Midani language. _Diyya_ was compensations paid after a family member had been wrongfully killed and _akeud_ was a blood oath of the type that hadn't been used in generations. It was considered too brutal, even for the harsh peoples of the Bedine tribes. It was an oath that promised that not only tied a person's honor to the one it was given to but their soul as well. It was magic, oldest magic, and was talked about in hushed whispers. It was said that a man under _akeud_ left his soul behind and lived as a creature devoid of emotion and thought except for fulfilling his oath. It was said that if one under _akeud_ died without fulfilling their oath their soul would never stand before the gods for judgment.

 **ooo0o0o0o0o0o0o0ooo**

The words of that night had haunted Quinn ever since and as she left the memory behind, finding that her hands had finished her chores without her telling them to, she returned her attention to the princes. Many years had passed since then and magic items among the tribesman were much more accepted and, so far, there had not been the all-out war and death that Utaiba had predicted. Still, there were many tribes in the Anauroch that didn't approve. The Princes had apparently finished their dangling of magic items and were now talking quietly with Zarud. Most likely, they would be negotiating other trade in exchange for so many of the tribesmen.

Zarud would be in a position of power with them asking for so many. He could ask for much more than he would normally dare in order to compensate for the lost warriors and guides. Then he would start negotiating just _which_ of his warriors and guides would be going along with the Princes. Utaiba would be in that group and because of that Quinn would as well. It wasn't traditional for a young woman to travel with the warriors but Quinn had found that as she got older she suffered from…special treatment. No one said it but Quinn wasn't being groomed for marriage at an age when she should have been. She was trained as a warrior and given weapons that women weren't normally allowed. It seemed, since that night, she'd been treated more carefully.

She had caught glances and whispers between her father, Zarud, and the Elder Council but she hadn't yet learned what it was that made her role within the tribe different than the other women. She wasn't _trusted_ as a warrior, no matter what it might look like. She was brought along, for reasons unknown, but she was not respected and Utaiba was always nearby. Watching for _something_. There'd been this quiet expectation around her for years now, ever since that night but especially since she'd first reached puberty and was recognized as an adult within the tribe. Zarud, her father…they both had heavy eyes on her that seemed to be quietly waiting and for what, she had no idea. She'd come to almost hate the explorations funded by Shade. Almost.

 **ooo0o0o0o0o0o0o0ooo**

There was a story among the Bedine called "The Horned Sheikh" in which a man invited to a Sheikh's tent where he discovered that the honorable Sheikh had been touched by Kozah, the god of the Winds and had the curved horns of a goat hidden under his _kufiya_ unbeknownst to the rest of the tribe. The man, being an outlander, was sworn to silence and told that even if he were to reveal the truth he wouldn't be believed by the tribe and would most likely be put to death. So, the man kept the secret.

But Kozah had intended the horns as a blessing and wanted it to be known. Having his blessing hidden he chose instead to change it into a curse. As the man held his secret his body swelled with Kozah's tempest winds until he was so swollen with air that he could barely move. Desperate to reveal the secret but knowing it would mean his death, the outlander found himself in an oasis and hatched a plan. In the dead of night he found a golden sparrow's nest in the branches of a palm and while the mother bird was away he whispered his secret to the eggs there. Suddenly, he was free of his terrible secret and Kozah's winds left his body but that was not the end.

In time those eggs hatched and it was not golden sparrows that emerged from the shells, instead great birds of sand and tempest were born and with each flap of their wings a sandstorm swept across the desert. The winds on the desert howled, sand blown on the wind strong enough to strip meat from bones and in that howling wind the people heard "The Sheikh has horns! The Sheikh has horns!" At first, the tribe ignored these words, thinking it a magical trick to discredit their leader but as the birds grew the storms grew more frequent and the winds sang louder and louder. "The Sheikh has horns!" And soon not just the one tribe, but all tribes of the Anauroch knew this terrible secret.

The Sheikh was forced to remove his _kufiya_ and reveal the truth to his people. In that moment, Kozah's winds died, the curse revealed. Angered that their Sheikh had hidden this secret from them for so long and mourning the many lost in Kozah's terrible storms the Sheikh was killed by his own people. The moral of the story was _supposed_ to be that keeping a secret and forcing others to do so on your behalf will always result in ruin. Bedine children were meant to understand that if the Sheikh had revealed his horns in the beginning then his people would have been more understanding. Forcing the outlander to hold his secret and therefore invoking Kozah's wrath resulted in the tribe being hurt and that's why the Sheikh was ultimately killed.

Utaiba often reminded Quinn of that Sheikh. There was a secret there that he was holding onto tightly and she couldn't help but think that it would one day get him killed. She was already packing when Utaiba entered the tent and took a long draught from the waterskin hung on a pole near the center of the tent. He took her in with a glance and nodded quietly to himself seeing that she was already packing for the two of them. As the years had passed it seemed that secret weighed on him more and more heavily and that if were to speak at all it would simply spill out. While he'd always been a reserved man, the years had made him even moreso and despite living in close quarters, Quinn often went weeks without hearing his voice.

In all the years since that night with Ioun Torch Quinn had felt the push of it all-Utaiba's silence, the weight of Sheikh Zarud and Utaiba's eyes on her, the tight-lipped silence on whatever it was they expected to see from her-and it had built within her an anger that she rarely let slip from her control. She seethed with it though, in almost all moments. A slow burn of frustration at unanswered questions combined with hurt and dismay that she just couldn't _belong_ in the way others did no matter what she tried. No matter where she looked within the Qahtan she knew that she would be slightly set apart from the rest and so far, in all her years, no one had answered the simple question of "why?"

That rage, though, had earned her a modicum of respect from her peers. When she was in battle she finally let herself loose, let that frustration, anger, and the fear that they might be right about her being different would come pouring out of her in a divulge of cathartic wrath. It didn't do anything to alleviate the underlying cause of the anger and it certainly didn't answer any questions but the rage felt good.

He quietly walked to the small firepit at the floor of their tent, nestled between much worn camel fur rugs, and placed the head of his great earth breaker hammer in its center. The pit smoldered with the remains of a cooking fire, the dried and compacted camels' droppings acting as a slow burning fuel in a desert bereft of shrub and tinder. The hammer was the closest a traditional Bedine like Utaiba would come to using magic. The fire-forged steel of the weapon would both pull the remaining flames from the fuel so that it could be used for the next fire as well as storing those flames in a way that could be called forth in battle.

They didn't speak as they folded the tent's rugs and packed them away into a sturdy but worn chest. Next the tent itself went on top. Their other belongings were packed into the chest and finally they stood bare in the desert air. Most of the nomadic camp had finished similar tasks but their chests would travel with them as the tribe moved toward their next destination. They were hoping to make thirty miles before dawn, which would be a harsh march for the group that contained at least sixty young women, children, and elderly members but it wasn't an abnormal march. The Princes' arrival however had delayed their departure quite a bit.

Instead of carrying their chest with them it would, along with the chests of other members slated for the expedition, be placed with the more lavish belongings of the Sheikh. If they didn't return their belongings would belong to the Sheikh and he would in turn divide those belongings among the rest of the tribe. It seemed cold to the outlanders but it was a pragmatic choice to the Bedine. Someone would use their things if they never returned. Utaiba, Quinn, and twenty eight young warriors and guides saw the bulk of their Qahtan brethren off and then remained behind to wait for the Princes of Shade to return the next evening so the expedition could begin.

 **ooo0o0o0o0o0o0o0ooo**

It wasn't the princes that greeted them the next evening. The Bedine considered it incredibly rude for those that were the original negotiators of the deal to not show up at the conclusion of that deal and so it was with some shock and quite a bit of grumbling that they noticed the group riding toward them at dusk. Quinn took in the large group riding toward them from the direction of Shade and noticed immediately the lack of banners proclaiming the twin Princes at their head. This group was different than those they had seen before though it was hard to tell with the Krinth and Shadovar. At their head was a stranger who had the same look as the two princes had but didn't seem to have the same ostentation as they had portrayed.

He was incredibly thin; his whole being seeming to be made of shadow and harsh angles. High cheekbones and a thin angular chin almost made him seem Elvish but his neatly combed and styled hair revealed human ears. His skin was pale but not white in the same way that a cloud or a cloth might be white. It almost seemed that his body was colored by shades of black rather than true color. What should have been the stark white of his skin seemed to shift in Quinn's mind, as she looked at him, to be instead and new idea of "light black" as if the color white were irrevocably tainted by the darkness of the Shadow realm.

It was obvious that he'd been touched by the same type of magic or elements as the Twin Princes but at the same time he was notably different from them. A broad, toothy smile that seemed to split his angular head in two graced his thin face as he rode up to the waiting Qahtan and took them in. After seeing mostly distain and contempt in the faces of other Netherese it was strange to the gathered Qahtan to see such an expression. Stranger still, were his clothes. Unlike the Netherese that Quinn had seen before _this_ denizen of Shade seemed to revel in their people's return to vibrant color. While his skin, eyes, and hair still seemed to be draped with the clinging shadows that the Princes had shown his clothing did not reflect the same. The Princes had arrived in shades of black, down to their sinister black armor; this man had fully embraced color to a point he seemed to stick out comically among his fellows in the setting sun.

He wore a suit entirely of a deep purple hue pinstriped with a light lavender cut to sit in harsh lines down his thin frame. Bits of white peeked out at the sleeves and collar and a garish silk cloth of a deep emerald green sat folded in an intricate pattern in a small pocket of the purple suit, just above his heart, a matching emerald cravat engulfed his collar. Buttons of what appeared to be obsidian rimmed in amethyst, sat in a neat line down his chest and at his cuffs. Something like a much larger version of the buttons hung on a cord, displayed proudly on his chest. An obsidian disk outlined in amethyst gems; the symbol of Shar.

When Quinn looked at just the suit she was reminded of the brightly colored puppets on strings she'd seen some years ago when her people had been guides to a small troupe of bards crossing the Black Road. They'd been silly things and the troupe often put on shows where the brilliantly painted wooden dolls would fight and bicker with each other over silly and meaningless grievances, sometimes using large clubs or hammers to wail about each other. However, that spritely image in Quinn's mind only lasted so long as it took to look into the man's eyes. They were the deep black as the Princes' had been and Quinn felt a deep pull toward that blackness as she met his gaze.

He seemed to be taking each of the Bedine people in one at a time, giving them long studying looks in turn and letting a very brief flash of approval or displeasure flash across his gaunt face quick enough that only the keenest observer would have noticed. Musalim, the warrior chosen by Zarud to lead the expedition stepped forward and bowed his head. He was a good warrior, only a year or so older than Quinn, but respected despite being known as a bit of a hot head. "We were not told to expect any besides the esteemed Princes, will they be arriving shortly?" The lack of honorific for the visitor and the pointed question were obviously rude to the Bedine but the newcomer didn't seem to notice or care.

"Yes, yes," he said with a small waving gesture of his hand. "There are...concerns in Shade at the moment that have our Princes quite...busy. As such, I'll be leading the expedition to Hlaungadath in their stead." The overly-wide smile returned to his face and he regarded Musalim with what seemed to be an understanding gaze. A few of the Bedine shifted uncertainly, Musalim's mouth drew down into a tight line before it seemed he would say something else he was cut off by the thin man. "Excepting where your knowledgeable leadership will serve us better, of course." The thin Netherese bowed his head respectively to Musalim.

That started a bit of muttering in a much happier tone. Here was a Netherese with sense after all, he seemed to recognize where the others hadn't just how integral the Bedine were to them. Their magics could only take them so far this deep in the desert and the perils they would face would be those which they'd never faced within their floating cities. A small smile appeared on Musalim's face and he nodded his head thinking that this would maybe be a much better arrangement than when they'd thought they'd be travelling with the Princes who made it clear they didn't care much for the Bedine people that they needed. "With respect," Musalim started, "Shall we know the name of our Honored companion?"

A sharp laugh spilt forth from the thin man as if it had suddenly broken free from some prison within him. The roar of his mirth seemed to belong to a man at least three times his size and the echoes of it floated for a long time on the desert air. With a flick of his wrist the man pulled the emerald cloth from his breast pocket and dabbed at his eyes. The Bedine shuffled, nervous once again. _Something about that laugh_ , Quinn thought to herself, looking across the gathered Qahtan, _unsettles them._ Perhaps it was merely that they'd never seen such a show from the denizens of Shade before but perhaps it was more.

"Oh, please, forgive me. It completely slipped my mind! You'll find that I can be a somewhat...silly man, at times." He placed the cloth back in its pocket with a quick movement that somehow left it as neatly and intricately folded as it had been before. "My name is Jairalen Coram'teldir but I do find it to be awfully pretentious, don't you?" He smiled at them all with a hint of that laugh in his eyes but no one answered. "Much simpler to just shorten it so, then, you can call me Mr. Jay. How about that?"

"Of course, Esteemed One, we will call you as you wish." Musalim said with another small dip of his head.

"No, no, none of that now. You are the men and women that will be guiding us through the harsh desert and beyond!" Jay started with another hint of that laugh in his voice. "If any of us is esteemed, it is you. Now, I understand that you would be..." He seemed to think for a moment, tapping his ever-smiling lips, "Musalim, yes? Our fine young Princes were kind enough to supply me with a report from negotiations. I'm ashamed to say, however, that they didn't seem to note the rest of you fine warriors and guides." He graced them with a look that seemed to encourage and validate their impressions of the Princes being arrogant and rude without ever saying a word against them.

Many of the Qahtan took particular note of that and it was obvious that quite quickly, Mr. Jay had established himself as _different_ from the Netherese they'd dealt with before. He might have that same dark magic clinging to him, shadows swirling in wisps and eddies like smoke, but he made it evident to them that while he mirrored them in appearance he did not do so in attitude. He'd almost instantly endeared himself to the Bedine and Quinn found herself liking him as well. "I'd like to meet each of you individually, if I can." Mr. Jay said to the crowd. "I understand we'll be departing shortly but I'd at least like to learn the names of the brave men and women I'll be accompanying on this long journey."

There were chatters of agreement and the Qahtan started lining up in an orderly fashion to meet the man before them. The regimen of Krinth that accompanied Jay stood stonily silent looking in a direction directly in front of them and no further, as if actually looking out around the desert might seem as if they were ignoring their duties. Mr. Jay climbed down from his horse, a sturdier looking thing than the hulking black beasts the princes had ridden, and started talking to each Qahtan in turn.

He shook their hands, exchanged a quick few words and often his great billowing laugh would pour out of him for just a moment and the person he was talking to would follow, though in a quieter fashion. Quinn found herself eager to introduce herself to Mr. Jay as well and started toward the line before a large weather-beaten hand landed on her shoulder. " _Aziir_ , let's stand back for now. No need to throw ourselves at our new Master, yes?" Utaiba's face was grim and serious as his voice.

Quinn was momentarily taken aback by the words but then, with an inward sigh, decided that this was just Utaiba being Utaiba. Probably worried he'd actually have to speak. "I want to meet him! He seems different than those others. You can stay back but what harm will it do just to introduce myself?" _And maybe someone like him won't treat me like a witch's pet caught skulking about camp._ she added bitterly in the privacy of her own mind. Quinn often coveted time spent with outlanders that didn't seem to see whatever it was that the other Qahtan saw in her that kept them away. They were warmer to her than her own father was at times and she hoped, seeing the way Mr. Jay interacted amicably with the other tribesman, that he would treat her to that same wide smile and raucous laugh.

She turned from Utaiba and took her place in line behind the other Qahtan, some already wearing their warm camel-hair _jellaba_ over their _aba_ to ward off the cooling night. Quinn had left hers in her traveling pack, she never seemed to get cold as quickly as the others though there were nights when she did and if they were traveling all the way to the High Ice it was likely the warm "night cloaks" wouldn't be enough. She looked back, once, to see Utaiba standing off to the side with his mouth drawn into a tight line and his arms crossed against his chest. Well, what did she care if he wanted to pout? She turned her head away and tried to wait patiently.

"Oh look, the _Dahabi Gashi_ is going to say hello, isn't she?" Called a voice to Quinn's left in obvious mockery. It was one of Musalim's lackeys, a young warrior named Rata that could often be found with his twin brother Nata nodding in agreement to anything Musalim said. He'd been part of a group of children about Quinn's age that, starting when they were still very young, had noted how differently she was treated and made sure she knew it wasn't a good thing to stand out. _Dahabi Gashi_ was Midani for Golden Fool, making fun of her blond hair though she did her best to keep it hidden under her _kufiya_ at all times. "Do you think Mr. Jay wants to say hello to someone that is barely Bedine, outlander child?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and did her best to shrug the comment off. "Rata, you seem to have lost your prettier half, did Dizsa finally choose your brother over you?" Dizsa was the only girl among the group that had tormented her for years and it had been obvious for a while now that both Nata and Rata fancied her and often used their tormenting of Quinn to try and impress her with their wit. What little of it existed. Rata started and stuttered at her comment but didn't seem as if he could come up with something else to say and Quinn turned away from him.

Her group of tormentors consisted of six people, all around her own age, and distinctly aware of how uncomfortable they made her. Rata and Nata, Dizsa, Farim, Assam, and most unfortunately... Musalim himself. She didn't worry about Musalim and his cronies coming after her while Utaiba was around and Musalim was smart enough to not let his little torments affect the expedition but his compatriots would do their best to annoy and belittle Quinn any moment they caught her alone. She did a decent job of pretending it didn't get to her...most of the time. She inconspicuously adjusted her _kufiya_ to make sure there were no escaped golden wisps of hair and hoped that Rata wouldn't notice.

The line moved quickly and soon Quinn was next to meet this man that had already done so much to impress the Qahtan Bedine. He was speaking animatedly to the warrior in front of her and, strangely, Quinn noticed that while she could hear the vague sounds of what they said to each other that she couldn't make anything out. They were only a few steps away and the air was still so there was no reason she shouldn't be able to hear them clearly and yet it was like listening to a conversation from outside a lavish Sheikh's tent that was done up in hides and rugs. She found herself leaning forward to try and hear better and nothing seemed clearer for it.

She was scrunching her brows together through her _kufiya_ when everything suddenly became clear and loud in front of her. She did her best to control the startled movement of backing away and standing up straight but she was sure, in her embarrassment that at least half of those watching had seen her. "Please, step forward." Called Mr. Jay's jovial voice, as clear as a bell. Quinn stepped forward, bowing her head slightly as she did so.

She stood before the garish, purple-clad man with a mixture nervousness and curiosity that she hoped she hid well. She tried to school her face, what was viewable behind her _kufiya_ and veil, into what she hoped was a neutral but serious expression. "Greetings, Exalted—"

"No, no, no. None of that, please." Mr. Jay interrupted as she dropped into customary honorifics. "I'm not 'exalted' or 'honored' or any of that yet. I'm just a man that stands unproven before you warriors. In your culture, I believe, that would make me a child so…yes, none of that for now." His hands made motions as if to sweep away the idea of those designations and he took a step closer to Quinn. "Now, then… Let me get a good look at you." His face split once more in to that overly large grin and his sharp eyes took her in. "Ah, you have quite a different look to you than the others. Quite different." A little chuckle escaped his lips.

Quinn shrank at that, a frustrated frown forming under her veil and her shoulders slumping slightly despite her best efforts. Jay seemed to see the affect his words had had and stepped forward, his face softening into a concerned moue. "Oh, oh, no. Don't mistake me, now. Different doesn't have to mean wrong." His hand reached out as if to rest on her shoulder but waited until he received a small nod from Quinn before actually placing it. His fingers seemed almost too long as they wrapped comfortingly over her shoulders. "Different can be special and looking at you, yes, I think that is the case. What's your name?"

Quinn looked up through slitted lashes, unable to fully shake the feeling of being criticized despite his soothing words. Looking in his eyes though, she felt as if he truly meant them and she noticed with some startlement that his eyes were green; a green so deep that she'd first assumed them to be black. "It's… Quinn, I am the only daughter of Utaiba."

His angular face twisted once more into the too-wide smile and he removed his hands to clasp them before him. "Wonderful. Lovely name. Now, Utaiba… Utaiba, hmmm, I haven't met him yet, I don't believe." He turned in a sudden movement to a Krinth soldier standing a few steps away and with a flick of his wrist produced a piece of parchment full of what Quinn could guess was a list of names, some with notes next to them, though it was written in Netherese. His dark green eyes darted across the paper before he nodded and shoved the paper back to the dispassionate looking Krinth. The soldier somehow made the paper disappear again as Mr. Jay returned to speak with Quinn. "His name is on my list but it seems he was not one of the warriors that felt the need to introduce himself… and it seems you're the last of the Bedine that have shown an interest." He put out his hand, palm up, inviting her to turn and look.

There were, in fact, no other warriors waiting behind her though she'd been sure a moment before that there had been at least one or two stragglers still waiting. In fact, in the moment that she looked behind her it seemed that none of the Bedine were even looking in their direction. They made themselves busy getting ready to march and a few of the more obstinate warriors seemed to be trying to convince members of the Krinth and Shadovar to change from their dark armor into something more suited to the desert terrain they'd face. Quinn knew from experience that most would stubbornly hold to their armor though in the next few days they would find just how fine and infiltrating the Anauroch's sands could be. Last expedition, Rata and Nata had made several coins selling fine camel hair brushes to the soldiers to clean the sand from between the overlapping metal plates of their scale mail. For the moment, Quinn seemed to bask alone in Jay's attentions.

"Utaiba can be… well, Utaiba. He's very traditional."

A brief moment of disbelief or confusion, Quinn couldn't tell which, flitted across Mr. Jay's face but he quickly hid it. "Traditional, you say?" he turned, forcing Quinn to turn with him to keep his gaze. There was another strange fluttering of Jay's hands that seemed to express disbelief and even confusion. Quinn wondered briefly at that, the feeling that she could instantly understand this man from just the way his body moved. "Traditional in all things, then?"

Her discomfort at being confirmed as different had been somewhat allayed but her suspicion piqued slightly at that, the way he'd asked the question in a sort of leading and incredulous tone. The way he asked sounded as if there were something he'd seen in Utaiba or in herself that confused him about her statement but she couldn't possibly think of what…except. "Oh! The hammer. Utaiba does carry a hammer called an Earthbreaker instead of the traditional scimitar."

Jay nodded slowly seeming satisfied with the answer but a moment later his lips pursed into a tight line, "That is a bit odd, for the Bedine, is it not? A warrior carries their scimitar as a symbol of honor and glory in battle doesn't he?" His expression grew quizzical and his long-fingered hands gave a swift flutter, palms up, as if to say that it was fine if he were wrong. Go ahead and correct him, he would hate to be under the wrong impression about these sorts of things.

Quinn found herself, again, instinctually understanding the body language and small changes in the man's expressions, as if they had known each other for years. It reminded her of old hunters that had gotten used to traveling with a trusted few compatriots and how they would communicate on the hunt without word or even hand motion. Each of them assured and confident in their purpose among their peers. She found herself suddenly more comfortable in his presence and answered, "Well, yes, most warriors carry scimitars. Some even adding jewels and ornaments after particularly fearsome or glorious battles but Utaiba hasn't really ever fallen into any of that, I guess." She searched for something more to add, suddenly afraid that she'd taken too much of this man's time and that he'd be dismissing her soon. She was reluctant to let this feeling of newfound comfort and companionship fade. "He… he calls me his _Aziir_ , it means scimitar in our old language."

The moment it was out of her mouth she wondered at what compulsion had caused her to reveal such a personal detail. Her face flushed with the heat of embarrassment but when she looked at Mr. Jay he seemed pleased by the revelation. "That is…very interesting. So, you are your father's honor then?" He beamed at her with that too-wide smile. "A fine title to have, don't you think?" Quinn's flushed a deeper red and she dropped her eyes, unable to think of an appropriate reply.

A gentle hand landed on her shoulder and she looked back up briefly. The smile on Jay's face was still just a touch too wide but there was a tenderness to his face that Quinn had rarely seen from others, including her own people or even her father. "It was truly wonderful to meet you Quinn. I look forward to further conversations with you. Truly." Quinn swelled with more pride than she'd thought possible at that and Jay nodded his head turning her back toward the Bedine that appeared almost ready to leave. "For now, I suppose we should not keep your people or mine waiting?"

Sad to see the conversation end but ecstatic in a way she'd never felt before after talking to the strange man Quinn nodded. "I should probably find Utaiba before we head out. He'll be worried that I was detained for so long. Thank you. For talking with me like, well, like I'm a person." He bowed his head slightly with another strange flutter of his long-fingered hands that seemed to say that it was his pleasure and no thanks was required. Once again, Quinn marveled at the feeling of understanding and synchronicity she felt in the man's presence. Quinn smiled at him behind her veil with a grin so wide it must almost match his preternaturally stretched expression as she gave a shallow bow and said her goodbyes. She nearly skipped away to find her place amongst the other Qahtan, a strange energy and joy suffusing her and sustaining her on the long march through the night.

 **ooo0o0o0o0o0o0o0ooo**

Three days into the expedition and they were making good time despite the Krinth soldier's fumbling attempts to keep up. As Quinn had expected, they'd stubbornly kept to their black scale mail armor despite the growing winds and dust as they made their way further toward the Standing Stones. Movement was slow by Bedine standards but with the large party size, many of the denizens of Shade being unused to desert travel, and the many wagons and carts carrying supplies Musalim and, more importantly, Mr. Jay were happy with the twenty or so miles an evening they were making. From their starting point on the Black Road they'd been traveling a steady Northeast and were now only about a dozen miles from where the flatter terrain surrounding the Black Road would turn to the rocky cliffs and crags of the Standing Stones.

While much of the Standing Stones rose up in a large plateau above the sands it was anything but a simple plain across the Anouroch's centermost expanse. The broad rocky area was full of crags, ravines, deep hidden valleys, secluded caves, and strange pillars of rock shaped by the howling winds and driving sand to give the area its name. They were traveling near morning after a long night's march but many of the Bedine were on high alert despite the hour. Walking quietly next to Utaiba, Quinn check the akinaka, a plain shortsword with very little guard leading into its grip and pommel to make sure it was free in its scabbard. She did the same for the curved _jambiya_ on her opposite hip before nodding silently to Utaiba.

He gave an approving nod in return and slightly adjusted the heavy earthbreaker strapped to his back. They were approaching a thin ravine that was a commonly used path of the Bedine into the Standing Stones territory. It was well traveled and the path was well known to them but it was also well known to bandits and less friendly tribes of Bedine. This would be the first of many likely ambush sites as the expedition traveled across the Anauroch and the Qahtan knew it.

Their party was huge, with twenty-eight Bedine, a full company of Krinth soldiers numbering 120 men, and at least another twenty men and women that either served as generals, aides, cart drivers, or some function within the Shadovar. Those numbers would dissuade most would be bandits and thieves but there were always Bedine raiding parties that would be quick to attack at the weakest points and take what they could before retreating as quickly as they'd come. They might have the larger force but that would just mean more confusion and chaos if an ambush did take place.

Quinn and Utaiba were traveling nearly a hundred yards in front of the company, to their left and right other Bedine scouts at a similar distance spread in a semi-circle around the head of the main expedition. Most of the expedition party was on foot, the majority of the Krinth warriors marching in stubborn formation at the center, a few generals scattered on their camels at either the head or the back of the regiment. Jay at the front with a few of the more human-looking denizens of Shade either quick stepping to keep up or on their own camels depending on their station. Behind the studiously marching Krinth were Bedine hunters and guides traveling in time with the carts and wagons transporting supplies. These were mixed in with the human Shadovar and a few Krinth that were obviously slated with guarding the supplies. **  
**

The Bedine not designated as scouts had taken positions around the center force of Krinth and Shadovar. At the fore of the Krinth troops Jay rode a well-trained riding camel that had been purchased from Sheikh Zarud in negotiations with the twin princes. Quinn, glancing at him riding comfortably atop the animal, smiled behind her veil. Many of the Bedine had been impressed by his willingness to ride the beast. In the past, other Shadovar leaders had insisted on riding their finely bred horses only to find them collapsing or turning a leg in the dangerous desert terrain. The magnificent horses made equally magnificent meals.

Jay had insisted that the Krinth generals and others accustomed to their horses also ride the camels, leading to some grumbling from them and much laughter from the Bedine who had to teach them such rudimentary things as how to mount the camels. Unlike horses, a camel was mounted first with a command for the creature to lay down so one could mount the saddle nestled ahead of its great fatty humps before another command would make it stand so that the rider could then guide the beast with the reins. Watching many of the Shadovar trying to leap or clamber up into the saddles of standing camels only to fall hard into the packed earth as the ornery creatures side-stepped their advances had been a highlight for many of the watching Qahtan warriors.

Quinn caught a quick hand motion from a scout to her left and nodded to Utaiba who didn't seem to have seen it himself. She seemed to have much better eyesight in the near dark like this than he did, perhaps he was getting old. She turned toward the back of the caravan and he turned with her. Two other pairs of scouts turned at the around the same time, looking as if it were just a coincidence that they departed at similar times while the semi-circle tightened around the head of the group to compensate for the departing scouts. "Men ahead?" Grunted Utaiba, swinging the earthbreaker from his back and holding against his shoulder as if his back were just getting tired and Quinn gave a curt nod. They moved at an unhurried gait, strolling toward the back of the caravan.

"There are likely eyes on us. _Ibn awa_ ahead, waiting in ambush." Remarked Utaiba, showing a wide grin that didn't match the seriousness of his words. They made a show of only speaking to each other as they passed other Bedine but spoke loud enough that those they passed could hear them clearly. Many faces lit up with realization but they knew to act as if they were unaware, a raiding party that thought they had the upper hand were often careless.

"Yes," Nodded Quinn, behind her veil. "They'll most likely wait until the expedition has started their trek through the ravine to attack." She gave a casual shrug of her shoulders so that anyone watching would assume they were talking about inconsequential things. She pointed to a cart carrying food and water, hoping to sell the idea that they were two scouts off to grab a quick bite to eat. "Musalim has sent a few of the warriors looking out for bowmen in the rocks." It was nearing dawn but the cover of the remaining night would most likely hide the warriors sent into the rocks while the ambush party was hopefully focused on the torches and light of the expedition.

"A smart man," remarked Utaiba, "will likely lead an attack from East as the sun rises. A very smart man, would wait until the Krinth have passed into the Ravine where it is thinnest and attack the remaining forces from behind." It would make sense; it would be difficult staring into the rising sun as the enemy attacked and it would be near impossible for such a large group of men to get themselves out of the ravine to defend the party as the rest were attacked. Especially if one or two of the large wagons had managed to get into the ravine behind them before the attack.

Musalim and others had tried to convince the Krinth generals that their rigid formations would only hinder them in the desert but while they might be riding camels, it was clear that some things weren't going to be compromised on. It was too late now, anyway. If they were to have some of the Krinth break formation now, whatever scouts were watching would know the Qahtan were aware of the presence. A few more of the Bedine warriors were moving casually to the back of the caravan and the handful of Krinth acting as supply guards perked up though they tried to look as casual as Quinn's brethren.

The last hours before dawn were tense as they marched closer and closer to the ravine, the Qahtan both alert and seeming impassive as they walked along. Quinn pulled her _jambiya_ from her belt and started using the double-edged blade to slice a small desert apple, popping slices into her mouth while sharing with Utaiba. "Do you want to be at the furthest point or do you think they'll have a target in mind?" This conversation was quieter now that the warning of the ambush had been passed through the caravan.

Utaiba looked thoughtful, spinning his Earthbreaker on his shoulder as he chewed a slice of apple. "Hmmm. Any attacking this large of a group is most likely after something more than food and water, yes?" They nodded in unison as Quinn sliced another bit of apple. "It would be my guess, that they'll target the wagon carrying all those fancy jars and bracelets, yes?"

"Most especially, if they have an old Sniffer." Quinn added. It was a little talked about gift of the Bedine, that many of them could detect magic either through scent, feel, or some other unknown sensory instinct. No one really knew _why_ the Bedine had this talent though many attributed it to the remnants of Phaerimm magic that still tainted the landscape. Most Sheikhs kept at least a few Sniffers in their ranks to either root out secret witches within the tribe or to alert them of the magical influence their enemies might employ against them. Since the trade with Shade, Sniffers had been employed to seek out magical items in raids as they could be sold and traded for great wealth.

"We'll make our way there but…" Utaiba looked pensive, his brow creasing in unspoken worry. "I have a feeling _Aziir_ , one that I would not ignore." He looked out over the desert for a moment, brown eyes scanning the growing twilight. "Keep your veil and _kufiya_ tight, yes?" He locked eyes with her for a moment and Quinn, for just a moment, sensed a deep fear within him. She felt cold at that a nodded quietly as she tossed the apple core away and tucked her _kufiya_ more tightly around her blond hair.

 **ooo0o0o0o0o0o0o0ooo**

As expected the attack came just as the sun crested the horizon. Though they'd, tried to make sure only the wagon carrying tents—the lightest of the wagons—was through the ravine when the sun started to rise it wasn't as if they could stop the march and betray their knowledge of the coming assault. As such, both the tent wagon and the cart carrying dry foodstuffs were the first through the ravine, blocking most of the Krinth company in as a hail of arrows rained down upon them. At least there were less arrows than one would have expected, a good sign that the warriors that Musalim had sent ahead were able to complete their mission.

They'd made their way to trail lazily behind the wagon full of magic items, expecting that there would be the strongest push toward it and its cargo. They'd assumed that the attacking force would want to take the magical items for themselves and that they'd be facing melee opposition. That is, until flaming pitch-covered arrows struck the wagon, setting it ablaze. A shout went up from the other Bedine, "Raz'hadi! Raz'hadi!"

Quinn's heart sank, the Raz'hadi didn't usually travel far from the Black Road but their hatred of Shade and its denizens was infamous. Worse, their hatred of magic was fanatical and they condemned not only those that were innately able to cast magic but also those that used magic items and benefited from the magic of others. They wouldn't be here to take supplies or treasure; they'd be here to kill as many of the expedition as possible. Shouts rang out all around as the battle broke out and Quinn turned to find her place in the fray.

Quinn drew her akinaka and her _jambiya_ , the curved blade of the latter turned against her offhand's forearm as more protection than effective weapon, ready for the Bedine riding down on them from the rising sun. Her eyes burned staring into the dawn but she focused on the deep shadows each figure cut into the growing light. A few more arrows whipped passed her as she made her way up a shallow dune to meet the warriors charging downward with their blade's drawn.

Already, the expedition was breaking down into chaos, screams and shouts echoing in the morning light as far more than the expected number of raiders came charging from the dunes. Utaiba's stood to her right, his great hammer swinging in an upward arch to take a Raz-hadi warrior straight in the chest with a gruesome muffled crunch of bone and flesh. The force of it threw the man up and over to land hard in the sand on his back. Quinn stepped passed and slashed the man's throat with a quick swipe of her akinata just for good measure. " _Aziir_! I need you to get to the ravine! Get to the tent wagon and stay there!"

Utaiba's shout was almost lost to the chaos as more men joined the fray, Qahtan and Raz'hadi alike. Quinn faced off against two warriors, a woman with twin _jambiya_ and a man with a long scimitar. She said nothing for a moment as she focused on her opponents, squaring off in a defensive stance as they tried to come at her from both directions at once. The woman lunged with her _jambiya_ and Quinn struck her neatly in the gut with her akinata, managing to avoid the twin knives by the reach of her sword's superior length. Her left arm went up to defend as the man's scimitar crashed down from above. She blocked it but the curved tip of her _jimbaya_ bit into her arm and the red-hot rage stirred hungrily in her chest.

" _El'bah_ , I find myself busy, at the moment." She took a small defensive step backward away from the threatening Raz'hadi's scimitar and drew her sword back with a violent twist from the stunned and dying woman. Her mouth set in concentration behind her veil she rolled her weight back on her feet, feigning a retreat before suddenly lunging forward just as the man had thought to lunge forward himself. Her sword found his wrist, batting his scimitar aside as she used the momentum of his own forward charge to rake her _jambiya_ across his throat. Hot blood splashed over her _kufiya_ and chest but she ignored it, turning toward the flood of incoming warriors. "Besides, I think the Krinth can defend themselves and a little wagon."

She took a moment to flash a mischievous, battle-hungry smile toward her father though he'd recognize the expression only from her eyes glinting blue behind the veil. A great swing of the hammer crushed the arm of an attacking warrior with a resounding thump followed by an agonized scream. The man's head took the second swing, the packed earth beneath him doing little to absorb the blow. It had only been maybe a minute since the first arrow had struck the wagon but now two Bedine tribes were fully engaged. Quinn heard shouts all around as well as distantly toward the ravine. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a few more arrows flying downward from the top of the ravine but most of the battle seemed focused here, at tail of the caravan. The Raz'hadi came from all directions now, the brunt of their forces from the rising sun but more coming from the south and west, closing them in. Pushing them toward the ravine.

Quinn took defensive position with her back to a wagon, it's camel had been cut loose to keep it from destroying the cargo in the confusion and now it stood motionless in the sand. As another warrior approached his legs were swept out from under him with Utaiba's hammer and Quinn darted forward for a killing blow. Utaiba joined her, back to the wagon, slightly out of breath from the exertion of swinging the heavy weapon. " _Aziir_ , listen. You need to get to the Krinth. You need to get away from this battle. Don't argue, child." There was a tightness to his voice as his eyes searched for _something_ on the horizon.

Quinn dabbed at sweat causing her _kufiya_ to cling to her forhead with the back of her arm. " _El'bah_ , there's a slight problem with that." She gave a quick glance around the wagon and took a wild swing at a Raz'hadi that was just running passed. He went down with a cry, his leg bleeding profusely but still alive. "I think, they're trying to push us into the ravine. My guess…" She took a risk and stepped out beyond the wagon's edge to put the man out of his misery. "is that they're going to push us in and then drop rocks from the cliff walls. It wouldn't take many if the traps are already set and if there are still arrows raining down on the Krinth even know…" She didn't need to tell him it meant the warriors in charge of taking out the archers had likely all fallen.

The old Bedine's brow furrowed in tight indecision as he scanned for more enemies and thought Quinn's words over. "You're right. _Aziir_ , let's make our way toward the ravine but we'll need to climb, scale the cliffs and disable whatever trap they've set just…don't lose yourself in this battle, _Aziir_. There are dangers that you need to be fully able to assess here. Understood?" He put a weathered hand on her shoulder and forced her to turn from the battlefield to look him in the eye. A little confused and a touch frightened Quinn nodded.

"Good, now, on my word we move toward the ravine. You take the right, I'll take the left." He gave her a reassuring smile and hefted his hammer once more. Quinn scoffed at him, a grin splitting behind her veil. The glory of battle suffused her, despite the dead and dying. The screams of pain and hate. This was her joy, her freedom. This was the place where no matter what the rest of the Qahtan thought of her, Quinn shone. She felt that burning rage inside her but kept it reigned in for the moment. She didn't need it all the time, especially when Utaiba was next to her.

They might go days without talking on the trail but here, on a bloody battlefield, they could speak to each other. Both of them, letting guards down, letting themselves just exist in the moments that would mean either their life or their death. She lived for these moments next to her father, when despite the chaos around them they were almost…playful.

"I'll bet you chose the easier slope, eh, _El'bah_?" Quinn taunted. "Can't handle a bit of a climb with that hammer in your elder years?" She sheathed the _jambiya_ at her hip and adjusted her grip on the short sword. A barking laugh answered her as Utaiba peered around his side of the wagon. Quinn grabbed the top of the wagon with her free hand and nodded to him, ready for his signal. With a guttural shout Utaiba started the charge and Quinn vaulted to the top of the wagon before propelling herself forward.

She ran its length and leapt, her weight crashing feet-first into a Raz'hadi threatening a Krinth soldier, her sword took him in the kidney as she landed. She grinned in a flash as she used her remaining momentum to roll and continue her run through the chaos toward the ravine. To her left Utaiba made slightly slower time as he swung his earthbreaker in great circles, breaking up smaller skirmishes and keeping assailants at bay. "You're just showing off now, child!" He shouted over the fray as Quinn vaulted over a group of men locked in battle with the use of a fallen Krinth's spear. She flipped in the air, her _kufiya_ fluttering behind her, and landed with a bit more flourish than was strictly necessary.

The ravine's walls, stretching up into the morning light were less than two hundred yards away and using the chaos of the battle around them, the pair made good time. They nodded to each other from across the ravine's length as they sheathed their weapons. A few of the Krinth warriors that had been trapped in the ravine were finally climbing their way around the wagons but it was slow going and the battle was now definitely pushing them toward the ravine's confines.

Bedine were used to climbing the rough rocks and stone of the Anauroch and with the battle raging below them Quinn and Utaiba started hauling themselves up the semi-sheer face. The walls of this particular ravine were only about as wide as a wagon at their start though they opened up into a valley and small valley oasis about a mile away. That oasis was supposed to have been their camping ground for the day after a long night's march.

Quinn's arms and legs burned as she propelled herself forward but it was a good feeling. A feeling of muscles being worked and being worked for the right reasons. She glanced again toward Utaiba and found that he was actually keeping pace with her despite her taunts. She grinned and she was rewarded with another, slightly breathless, laugh from the man. She reached for the next handhold and kept going.

The ravine walls were about twenty-foot on each side and while it wasn't a perfectly straight climb it was steep enough that many would not have even attempted the climb. Utaiba and Quinn though, had been climbing these sorts of stone formations since she was a child. Utaiba always said that the air at the tops of the cliffs and pillars of the desert offered a certain clarity of mind that couldn't be found in the dust and heat of the sands. Quinn found herself agreeing.

She reached the summit only moments before Utaiba and pulled herself up with a grunt and a quick roll onto the solid earth. She came face to face with great black hooves rearing up to strike and rolled to her side with a shout. The iron-shod hooves clattered down where her head had been a moment before while Quinn drew her weapons and tried to school her breathing. By Kozah, her body was aching and how had she let her attention stray so much she'd almost been beheaded by a horse?

She glared up at the rider and momentarily stopped in shock. Sheikh Sabikhat, his ornate _igal_ shining at his brow as he brandished his almost impossibly ornate scimitar. Quinn lunged passed him and his great black stallion with a shout, the scimitar brushing close enough that Quinn could have sworn it had scored her shoulder but as she found her feet no telltale heat of blood dampened her tunic. She took a defensive stance and looked around at the rest of the clifftop. Five more Raz'hadi warriors surrounded her and were closing in. On the far side of them she saw a pile of boulders set to be released on the caravan with just a few cut ropes and the leverage of wooden planks.

 _Guess the trap's on this side, then._ She took a quick glance toward Utaiba on the other side of the ravine and saw him take down the single archer that had been left posted there. He turned and despite the distance Quinn saw the color drain from his face as he took her in. _I've been in worse,_ El'bah. _Just watch._ She thought with a mental scoff as she counted the men around her.

She turned slowly, putting her back to the three men approaching from the rock trap though she didn't let them drop from her attention. Facing the Sheikh and a small wizened man standing at the side of his great black horse, two other warriors approached. Quinn adjusted her body, weight on the balls of her feet but with a posture indicating her attentions were entirely on the two men in front of her. Peripherally she noticed the stances of the men behind her relax, one bending a knee slightly in what would likely be a lunge and she twisted into action.

She propelled herself backward, her knuckles scraping on the rough stone as she gripped her weapons and pushed herself with a surge of strength. Flipping herself through the air, her lithe body twisted to land a heavy kick at the chest of the first of the three men that had been approaching her from behind. Her weight tumbled him effortlessly to the ground and she used the impact to leap again, this time changing her body's course slightly to the left in addition to continuing backward. She pulled herself into a tight ball that spun in the air for a moment before she let the weight of her momentum sweep her sword arm out to the throat of the second man that had been approaching her back.

She quickly tucked the sword arm tight against her body and used the hand gripping her _jambiya_ to slow her body into a roll and slide past the third Raz'hadi. The second man fell, gripping his throat with a gurgling attempt at a scream as Quinn came to a dusty stop facing the Sheikh and found herself free of the closing circle of men. Sabikhat shouted orders as he turned his horse to face her and the men recovered quickly from the shock. Even the one Quinn had kicked was dusting himself off and collecting his fallen scimitar from the ground.

She rose to a crouch and took a relaxed but vigilant stance as the remaining four men approached again, this time a bit more wary. "Alright, _ibn haram_ , it's probably time for you to retreat. The Krinth are freeing themselves of the ravine and with this many men lost you can't possibly keep up the fight." She was answered by a scimitar testing her defenses on her right. She deflected with the akinata, noting peripherally that Utaiba was running _toward_ the edge of the ravine. _He can't be that stu-_

As the thought was still forming he leapt, his great hammer swinging forward to propel him forward and over the ravine. He landed, barely, passed the rocky ledge and Quinn took a shallow wound across her collarbone that she hadn't been able to see coming in her fear that she'd be watching Utaiba plummet to his death. He recovered quicker than his age would have normally allowed and the head of the earthbreaker took a warrior from behind. Utaiba leapt up beside Quinn, a look on his face that Quinn had never seen before.

"Get out of here. _Now_!" He hissed at her, panting hard through clenched teeth. "Quinn, I need you to run. Just run, child. Please." It was the please that made Quinn run cold, in her whole life Utaiba had never said that word to her. Combined with the strain of fear in his voice Quinn found the joy of battle that had coursed through her fading into confusion. She mumbled a question but Utaiba pushed her behind him slightly before swinging his hammer in a great arch to push the advancing Raz'hadi back.

"Utaiba?"

The warriors stopped, turning toward their Sheikh in momentary puzzlement. Quinn felt that her expression under her veil must mirror their own. Sabikhat _knew_ Utaiba. From the storm cloud of anger roiling on his face though, it wasn't a friendly association. The tense shoulders and aggressive stance of her father beside her hinted that the feeling was entirely mutual. "Yes, _Sheikh_ , surprised to see me alive, then?"Utaiba spat at the feet of the horse, his mouth twisted in anger and disgust that Quinn had never known from her father. "Still letting people fight and die for you without getting your hands bloody, yes?"

The Sheikh flushed a deeper red of rage and quickly dismounted his great stallion to join his warriors in the half circle as Quinn and Utaiba tried to keep their backs to the rock trap behind them. "How about you let the woman go, Sabikhat. It's obvious your plan has failed. The Krinth are now making short work of your remaining warriors. Even your cowardly little trap won't have much effect now as they make their way out of the ravine." Utaiba thrust his chin toward the battle behind them. Quinn could hear the sounds of battle dying down even from the top of the ravine and knew it was true.

She stood tensed and confused, unsure what to do or even what was going on. The Sheikh, for his part seemed to bristle, his mouth drawn into a tight line. Quinn inconspicuously adjusted her grip on her weapons sure the large man would attack in a moment. His warriors had taken a respectful step back, obviously thinking to give their leader room for the fight. A tense moment passed as her father and the lighter skinned Raz'hadi chief eyed each other.

Quinn desperately wished she could see Utaiba's face fully, to try and read what was there and gauge what would happen next. _Attack or run,_ El'bah _? Afterward, you'll explain this to me._ She tensed as Sabikhat's posture shifted but instead of an attack he nodded slowly, sheathing his sword. "You know, you're right, this battle didn't go to plan. I'd hoped to kill you all with our tactics instead of the Harpers' but a slower death will suit you all." He pulled a polished _amarat_ from his belt and held it to his lips, a long mournful note that echoed over the desert rang out. Sabikhat started to mount his horse again, indifferent to their confusion.

Moments passed and then pure chaos.

A great explosion of fire and rubble rang out two hundred yards further down the ravine. Then another, and another, another. The ground shook beneath their feet and Quinn found herself hurled to the ground, turning her head she looked down as the entire length of the ravine was collapsing. A massive cloud of dust and debris billowed up, whipping the veil and _kufiya_ from her face as broken stone and ash stung her face. She lay on the ground stunned as she took in the pure destruction before her. "By N'sar…"

The entire ravine collapsed in on itself in a great roar that Quinn thought must be the land itself screaming its agony to A'tar's merciless sky. An anguished howl ripped from Utaiba as Sheikh Sabikhat turned his horse to ride away. "You would employ magic now!? After your rants and condemnations, _you_ would do _this_!?" The raw fury in him took even Quinn by surprise but Sabikhat turned back with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"This isn't magic, Utaiba. It's black powder, created from powders mined from the depths of this very desert." He leaned over the saddle of his horse, hand resting comfortably on the pommel of his sword. "The Harpers have their magic but understand our desire to stay pure, unlike you Qahtan who—" His eyes took in Quinn and he stopped abruptly. His eyes darted between Utaiba and Quinn and a look of realization washed over him, followed immediately by a blind rage. "Take them! Grab them, I want them alive."

The warriors were well trained and hurried to comply in a moment. Before Quinn could process what was happening an arrow had taken Utaiba in the shoulder, causing his hammer to drop to the ground with a resounding thud. Rough hands grabbed Quinn's ankles and pulled. Utaiba tried to grab for Quinn's hand but a pair of warriors were already wrenching him away. Quinn screamed and kicked out at the hands pulling her while twisting her body and scrambling for her sword or dagger that she'd dropped in the wake of the explosions.

Her fingertips brushed the pommel of her sword as a warrior stepped over her prone form. She saw the jeweled pommel of his scimitar glisten in the sun for a moment before it struck and she knew only darkness.

 **ooo0o0o0o0o0o0o0ooo**

Quinn came awake slowly to the sound of her father's urgent whispers, at first she didn't know where she was, only that her head hurt more than she could ever recall feeling before. It throbbed in time with her heartbeat, her aching eyes able to pick up the flicker of a fire behind the closed lids. "Quinn! Quinn, please, _Aziir_ you need to wake up while there's time!" A small groan escaped her lips unbidden and she rolled her head painfully to the side, eyes still closed. _Just another minute,_ El'bah _..._ She thought, longing to slip back into the darkness away from her pounding head.

Slowly, she realized she wasn't able to move her arms or legs. With the realization came a rush of memory and the new sensation of her arms and legs bound with thick ropes to lengths of thick rope. Her eyes snapped open and she caught her father's eyes from across the fire. He looked relieved to see her wake but he also looked older than she'd ever seen him, fear shown in his dark brown eyes. He was bound in the same manner as Quinn on the opposite side of the fire. The arrow that had taken his shoulder before had been broken off but little had been done to dress the wound. Blood seeped slowly down his _aba_ around the broken haft of the arrow, tied with his arms up around the wooden post it must be excruciating.

Between them his great hammer sat soaking up the licking flames, glowing red hot. _That is not as comforting a sight as it would normally be..._ Utaiba seemed to be eyeing his weapon as warily as her. They both knew that there was little reason for their captors to leave a weapon so prominently between them except as a message. Quinn tensed her muscles, testing the strength of her bonds, unfortunately it seemed that these Raz'hadi warriors had not underestimated her. She scanned the rest of her surroundings. They were in a finely appointed tent. Thick rugs covered every inch of the ground in layers except for where the fire burned at its center. Logs of actual wood burned here, a display of wealth that would in a different situation cause Quinn to roll her eyes. Multicolored pillows sat in a decadent mound to one side, a tray of mostly eaten dried fruit and a decanter of wine sat discarded at the edge of the silken pile. "If I had to guess, _El'bah_ ," Quinn said in a hushed tone, "I'd say we're in the Sheikh's tent."

Despite his exhaustion and obvious pain Utaiba gave her a look that asked "Why are you wasting breath telling me things even a horned lizard could have figured out?" as she'd hoped it would. At least he was feeling well enough to be annoyed at her. That was a good sign. "So...what's the plan?" She shifted again, testing just how much wiggle room her legs had. Maybe if she could get to that tray, there might be a chance there was something the Sheikh had left that could help cut the ropes. She tried to lift herself up a bit looking in that direction, perhaps Sabikhat was a fan of cheese and had left a small knife behind?

" _Aziir_..." There was something in his voice that halted her curious scan in an instant and her bright blue eyes turned questioningly to his. He held her eyes a moment before looking away as a heavy sigh left him with a wince as it tugged at his bloody shoulder. "Listen, child, there are things that I've never-that I never wanted to tell you. I don't have the choice now but we must hurry. Can you get over here? Get this arrow out of my damned shoulder and get yourself out of those ropes." She noticed now that while she was merely tied to lengths of wood her father was instead bound and then pinned to the earth by spikes of metal hidden under the thick carpets.

Quinn nodded and tried to right herself from her somewhat undignified position splayed on the ground. The first post was behind her neck with her wrists lashed up behind her head, the second was wedged behind her knees and then lashed to the first so she had very little room to move and curl her abdomen. Fortunately, Quinn had always been limber and the problem with this type of restraint was always that it forgot that spines could bend backward as well as forward. On her side as she was, she was forced to twist her face hard into the fibers of the carpet beneath her to get enough momentum to flip onto her back. She became distinctly aware of a tender lump on her forehead and remembered that jeweled pommel flying toward her face with a grimace. "So, talk, why do you know the Raz'hadi chief and why does you seem to hate each other?"

Quinn used her somewhat numb fingers to slowly lift her head and regard her father from an upside down vantage as she worked her knees under herself. He kept his eyes adverted but he did start talking. "Years ago, long before the City of Shade appeared once more in the sky the Qah'tan and the Raz'hadi had tentative dealings. It wasn't Sabikhat as Sheikh then, it was his brother Bhadla. I knew him briefly but never well. He...he seemed like a good man. An honorable man. He just..." Utaiba gave a pained sigh and finally tried to look Quinn in the eye but her face was turned away as she tried to twist her weight in the proper direction while the muscles of her shoulders protested angrily. "Even good, honorable men make mistakes and Bhadla made the mistake of falling in love."

Quinn got her body bent backward at an almost comical angle and then used a burst of strength from her abdomen to force her bent and bound legs up and over. _Shit, shit, shit, ow..._ She landed hard on her stomach knocking the wind out of herself, white pain flashing behind her eyes as her shoulder wrenched painfully. _Probably not trying that again._ She opened her eyes and judged how much closer the maneuver had gotten her; she was now a whole couple inches closer and from the feel of it had come dangerously close to dislocating her shoulder.

No, this would be one of those times where Utaiba was always preaching patience; it would be safer and she'd be in much better condition at the end if she simply inched her way there as slow as the process might be. She started the painful process of turning herself over to her back again while Utaiba continued in his hushed whispers. "No one really knows where she came from, she was with a group of merchants being escorted across the Black Road. Back then the Raz'hadi were willing to do this. However, when the merchants had crossed the woman stayed and Bhadla announced his intention to make her his wife."

Quinn, her face feeling the burn of the camel skin rug as she twisted once more wriggled so that her slow uncomfortable inching would avoid the crackling fire as much as possible. The white flash of pain had settled into a dull ache in her shoulder and she was surprised to note that the rough rope hadn't cut into her skin yet. "They were married and very quickly -some said too quickly- announced that they were with child. Bhadla would hear none of the whispers about his Outlander wife but Sabikhat... Sabikhat was suspicious of her." Quinn started inching around the fire, feeling like she was moving far too slowly but at least she was making some progress.

"Shortly after the announcement rumors said that Bhadla had started to change, easy enough things to explain at first but getting worse as time moved on. He became obsessed with protecting his wife and child, seeming to believe that there were assassins and traitors in all corners. The Raz'hadi became more and more distant from other tribes and soon the rumors said that Bhadla had actually gone mad. A sickness of the mind taking hold that made him believe that even the most trusted of his allies and advisors meant his wife and child harm." Quinn grunted softly to let Utaiba know she was still listening but also because she'd managed to wrench her hip hard as one of the posts caught a wrinkle in one of the piled rugs. Closer now.

"Sabikhat started a rumor then, spreading it among the Raz'hadi warriors and the Sheikh's advisors that this was no natural madness, that Bhadla's mysterious wife was somehow causing his brother's affliction. It was well known at the time that this woman would take walks into the desert on nights when the moon was high though she seemed to suddenly disappear to the eyes of the scouts that Sabikhat sent to follow her. He suspected magic and sent his Sniffers one night to follow her."

Quinn inched closer and closer, her legs dangerously close to the fire as she tried to skirt around it and reach her father. Inch by painful inch she was making her way there though several feet still lay between them. _Why would anyone need a tent this big?_ She knew it was no larger than the tent that Sheikh Zarud used but the current predicament made her feel more annoyance than was strictly necessary. They had no idea when they'd be joined again by their captors so every moment counted.

"The Sniffers caught the stench of magic and followed it. Soon, they found the woman, her belly swollen with child but not as they had known her before. Her skin was thick and scaled, her eyes glowed red in the dim light and horns curled around her head. This...demon, or whatever she was, was revealed and the Sniffers took what they had found back to Sabikhat. Enraged, he marched into the night to find her and to demand his brother's release from madness." Utaiba fell silent for a long moment and Quinn stopped wriggling long enough to turn and look at him. Gods, he looked tired, and that red stain down his shirt had spread a worrisome amount.

"What then, _El'bah_?" Quinn prodded in a whisper, worried the blood loss from his shoulder might be pulling him toward a dangerous sleep. Keep him talking, keep him awake, until they could get out. She'd carry him if she had to. She continued her slow creep across the piled carpets one small bit at a time.

"Then..." He shook his head slightly, as much as his bindings would allow, as if to clear it. "Then a very young, very self assured hunter found a man threatening a young woman heavy with child and thought he knew in an instant what the right thing to do was..."

Quinn stopped cold remembering the night with the Ioun stone. _When I was young, I thought like you. Thought I could tell at a glance what was happening in the world._ Her father's words summoned from her past were followed by a single hushed word slipping past her lips in the old language. " _Akeud._ " Quinn heard more than she saw Utaiba give a weak nod. " _E-El'bah_ , what happened with the woman?" Quinn was surprised to hear the waver in her voice, the fear of where this story might find its end suddenly seeming far too easy to guess.

"I..." Utaiba faltered for a moment, "Quinn, never believe you are stained, never believe you are less than others or that your goodness is weakened by your origin. I've watched you grow, I've held you close to my heart. You are my _Aziir_ , my honor, and I've never considered my trading the sword for you to be a mistake. Just..." His voice cracked suddenly and Quinn was startled to see tears leaving wet streaks down his weathered face. "I intervened. I saw a young woman and an angry man and I thought I knew the situation for what it was. I fought Sabikhat and the woman ran. I thought I was doing the right thing and after knowing you, child, I can believe wholly that I was right but at the time..."

Quinn's chest felt tight at the words and her slow crawl across the tent halted as she listened far more intently than she had before. "So, my mother? She was..." Quinn steadied her voice with a gulp and a deep breath before continuing. "How?"

Utaiba searched for her face across the remaining length of the tent and a deep sadness and regret lay there in the lines of his sun weathered face. "As I fought Sabikhat, his men soon caught up with him and joined the fight. I was defeated but they didn't kill me, they took me back to their camp to speak with Bhadla and explain what they had seen..." He looked off into the distance, seeming to watch the moment happen again before his eyes. "I expected many things being dragged into this tent that night, but not what happened..."

He gulped, his eyes turning back to Quinn's, "Bhadla's link with the woman must have been a strong one, stronger than most men will ever know, rooted somewhere deep within his soul. When we arrived and Sabikhat confronted his brother about his findings the elder brother was already on edge. Some part of him, primal or otherwise, must have known even before we arrived that something was wrong. He...withered before us. The news of his wife being what she was seemed not to surprise him at all but her being gone, chased into the desert and likely to never been seen again... it seemed to tear him in two. He howled like a man undone before falling to his knees and...the life just left him.

"Sages and healers tried to determine what had caused the death but none had a clear idea and many whispered of dark magics. Bhadla's body was wrapped and burned that very night but Sabikhat was unable to let his brother's death, and the woman who he felt caused it, go. He blamed me for it, of course. If the woman hadn't had a chance to run and sever whatever dark magics she'd cast upon him, perhaps his brother would still live. To him it was _Diyya_ to be settled and knowing what she was and feeling as if I'd been tricked somehow I...I agreed to ritual _Akeud_."

Utaiba's body shook with tears again and for a moment the man that Quinn had always thought to be her father seemed so very small and weak. " _Akeud_ is a darker thing than I had ever known, _Aziir_ , a darker thing than any man should be subjected to. The words that you speak in the name of N'sar...they create something from what you were. After invoking his name, after speaking the ancient words of _Akeud_...I was no longer a man after my oath, I watched as the glimmering thing that made me myself was ripped from my chest and I no longer had thought or will aside from my oath. 'I, Utaiba of the Qahtan, swear on pain of my soul's forfeiture to kill the woman known as Akta el'Bhadla as restitution for the wrongful death of Bhadla of the Raz'hadi and will not rest or waver until the task is complete.' The words repeated in my head, leaving nothing else."

He shuddered as if suddenly cold, "I can't explain what it is like; not having your soul. You are no longer a person, just a thing that moves. I was a monster more than I was a man. It felt like I was stuck in a cavern watching through a peephole while my body moved on its own. I could observe but I could not act toward any goal that did not fulfill the oath. I did not eat, or drink. I did not sleep or rest and my body didn't falter. It was as if the words were keeping my body alive. They repeated over and over, a constant mantra, all I could hear for weeks until I found her."

Quinn buried her face in a stretch of carpet, pretending to inch closer though she was simply unable to look toward Utaiba at that moment. "She was weak from traversing the desert, especially while so swollen with child. She might have begged, might have tried to reason with me but all I could hear were the words of my oath, repeated louder and louder in my mind until they'd become a shout drowning out everything else. I remember the relief of silence the moment my scimitar pierced her heart..." There was a pause and an audible gulp from Utaiba as he gathered his thoughts. "Warmth returned to my body and with it thought and for a moment the bliss of it..." He choked back tears again, "For a long moment the reality of what I'd done didn't sink in. It wasn't until..."

He trailed off and Quinn let her own hot tears soak into the carpet beneath her, a tense expectation floated between them. He didn't need to finish the story for her to know, he needed to finish it to have it finally be said. His secret, like that of the Sheikh's Horns, finally laid bare. "I searched her body for signs of witchcraft but what I found was...I found a symbol around her neck; a golden heart. Holding it, I found that it slipped into two pieces and had a small compartment within. I found a small piece of paper and a prayer written in the old language. Bhadla must have been teaching her the-but it doesn't matter...

"It was a prayer; praying for happiness for her, for her husband, and the child she carried though Bhadla was not the father. Then she thanked a goddess I did not know for helping her to find this good, honest, understanding man. Thanking Hanali Celanil. I've been told since then that...that this Hanali is a good goddess of the Outlanders. She represents love and beauty."

He fell quiet for a long moment before a shaky intake of breath filled the quiet. "Her husband lay dead and so did she but part of her prayer could be honored. I cut you free of her with the scimitar that had pierced her heart and you...you didn't cry when I held you. Not a sound, you just curled quietly in my arms, seeming to accept me despite what I'd done. My child..." His voice broke at that but he continued, "despite what your mother might have been or what her true form was I don't believe she was evil. I don't believe that what bound her to Bhadla was evil. I believe now, that he truly loved her and his death was a result of a broken heart and his madness a result of his brother's distrust and scheming."

Quinn rubbed her face into the carpet to dry her eyes and turned toward Utaiba, his face streaked with tears leaving slightly cleaner lines through the dirt and blood. Eyes bloodshot, he gave her a weak smile, " _Aziir_ , I know it's not easy to hear but I need you to know before..." He took another shaky breath and his face steeled. "I need you to live, you need to escape this place. If you can get over here and get this arrow from my shoulder then you might be able to cut the rope."

Quinn struggled violently against her bonds, twisting as quickly as she could to face him more fully. "Seriously? _That_ was your plan?" She gave him a look that could wither grass and in turn he gave what would have likely been a shrug if he'd been able to move his arms at all. "Right...new plan, I set myself on fire. Just a little bit. And after...we're _both_ getting out of here and you're going to tell me everything." She started inching toward the fire. "By N'sar...what was I going to use to get the arrow out? My teeth? This whole time I thought you had a knife or something hidden in your boot. Getting senile, old man..." They both knew she was grumbling so they wouldn't have to talk about it, or worse, sit in uncomfortable silence. "This is gonna suck, you know? Next time we're captured _you_ get to set yourself on fire."

While she inched toward the fire she tried to ignore her racing thoughts but the story and her past ran through her head. _Akta_... Her mother's name had been Akta and she followed Hanali. Had Utaiba looked for any more information about the woman over the years? If it was not Bhadla, who was her father? She was less than a hand's length from the fire when the flap at the front of the tent was lifted and Sabikhat strode in, his old Sniffer and two younger warriors behind him. He took in the both of them with a smirk, hands on his hips. With a silent gesture he motioned toward Quinn and the two warriors heaved her upright and back from the fire.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting. The Harpers do love information and after collapsing the chasm they were curious to know what other paths the little Shadovar might take." He gave them an eyeroll that indicated his feelings on the chances of the Shadovar and the remaining Qahtan. "Even if they had guides with knowledge of other oasis' their resources will never last long enough for but a few to survive. Now, I can turn my attention to you." The Raz'hadi Sheikh gave a derisive snort and strode toward the earthbreaker maul, glowing ominously in the fire. "I'm glad to see that you were never foolish enough to pick up a scimitar after consorting with _that_." He waved a hand over his shoulder toward Quinn. "Bad enough letting such a thing exist but raising it as your child, Utaiba? Pretending it's human?" He turned the glowing hammer in his hands slowly, eyeing it critically. With another small gesture Sabikhat called one of the warriors from Quinn over to him. "Unbind his legs."

The warrior nodded and bent to the task while panic rose in Quinn's chest. "You know I'm right here, right?" She struggled against her bonds but the remaining warrior behind her grabbed her hair and held her tight. "No need to talk over my head. How about you insult me to my face instead of admiring the craftsmanship?" Utaiba gave her a warning look but Quinn ignored it. "Awful big man you pretend to be, threatening a man tied to the ground." She fought against the rope again, ignoring the grip of the warrior behind her, wrapped in her hair.

Sabikhat turned slowly to look at her but it didn't seem that he really saw her, to him she was a thing, not a person. "I wanted to see," the Sheikh started slowly, "just how far he had fallen." The hammer spiraled slowly in his hands as he took a half step toward Quinn. "Do you hold him with magic like your witch mother? Or has he deluded himself into thinking that a creature like you can be loved? Can return it?" His words were casual, conversational almost but his eyes were hard. He turned toward her, glowing hammer shifting to be held in a more threatening stance. He nodded to the warrior behind Quinn and the hand in her hair wrenched her head backward, lifting her chin.

Slowly, deliberately Sabikhat started inching the earthbreaker's red hot head toward Quinn's face. She could feel the heat as it approached and for the first time she cursed the fire-forged steel's ability to hold heat as it did. _I was the one that volunteered to set myself on fire..._ Closer, closer, she clenched her eyes shut as the hammer came within a finger's breadth of her cheek. She grimaced, expecting the sting of the hammer's heat at any moment before Utaiba's voice broke the tense moment.

"Sabikhat, don't! Don't hurt her. Please." Utaiba's voice cracked with emotion, fresh tears stood in his eyes though they didn't fall. "She's still a child. Just...look at her. _Look_ at her Sabikhat. She's...she's good. Whatever her mother might have been, it is not in her. She's just a child. Please don't hurt her." The hammer was pulled away and Quinn had a very small modicum of relief as Sabikhat regarded her critically, face set into hard lines.

"You know..." he said slowly, crouching down to regard Quinn face to face, the hammer held across his bent legs. "I could almost believe you were just a girl. A child with no connection to _that woman_ except for an unfortunately familiar face if it weren't for just now..." Resting the hammer more fully on his knee he lifted the hand that had held the hammer closest to the glowing head to show her. Angry red blisters covered it from its proximity to the heat. "You, whatever you are, didn't burn despite being just a hair's breadth from your face. That tells me _'child'_ that," He stood in a sudden burst of movement, grasping the hammer and twisting in a surge of strength toward Utaiba, "you are not as innocent as you've lead him to believe!"

There was a heart stopping crunch, muted by the surrounding flesh as the hammer met Utaiba's outstretched leg. The older warrior let out an involuntary howl of pain as blood from his mangled leg soaked into the carpets. As his scream died down into fast, pitched breathing Quinn heard the sizzle of the hammer's head as it rested in the butchered sinew of Utaiba's leg and the scent of cooking meat drifted toward her. She pulled against her ropes as that red hot anger called to her from deep in her chest. "You fell to the same trap as my brother, Utaiba. This creature has tricked you into thinking it's a real girl. That it can love, that it can care. It's a parasite, feeding on you as it's mother fed on Bhadla."

A soft whisper answered the Sheikh's taunting words, barely audible over the crackling fire and the hammer's slow sizzle. The lilting flow of the Midani language somehow reached everyone despite the low murmur of Utaiba's words. "I invoke N'sar, god of death, caretaker of souls yet to be judged before the Gods. I invoke His name and with my blood spilled before a Sheikh of the Bedine People I take the _Akeud_ in service to Quinn of the Qahtan. I, Utaiba of the Qahtan, swear on pain of my soul's forfeiture, to keep _my child_ safe from hateful men."

There was a flash of light and a surprised gasp as Sabikhat fell back, his hand releasing the hammer. Above them all, a ball of silvery light brighter than the fire flickering within the tent floated on the air before shooting toward Quinn. It struck her in the chest and warmth suffused her before dissipating, seeming to be absorbed into her. "What?" she tried to put a hand to her chest before remembering she was still bound though the hand holding her hair had gone a bit slack with shock. _Was that..._

She heard the hushed sound of the rugs shifting against themselves a moment before the ropes snapped. Utaiba, or what souless creature Utaiba had become, stood slowly. His face was slack and emotionless as he shrugged the ropes and wooden posts away, neither the broken arrow shaft in his shoulder nor his mangled leg seemed to bother him as he dragged it behind him toward Sabikhat who quickly scrambled away. "You... you can't do that. You can't tie your soul to that thing's! N'sar wouldn't-wouldn't allow..." His eyes darted between Quinn and Utaiba wide and disbelieving.

The old Sniffer that had followed the Sheikh into the tent and remained mostly quiet let loose a quiet prayer and a curse. "Sabikhat he...the magic holds. N'sar has blessed the _Akeud_ and accepted it's terms. He..." Words seemed to fail the old man and what had been a slow backing away turned into a sudden run for the tent's exit. Eyes followed him as he left and the warrior behind Quinn took a hesitant step away. Utaiba turned toward her.

" _El'bah_..." Had Quinn's voice always sounded so small? She watched the creature that had been her father warily. Dragging his leg behind he shuffled toward her and past the terrified looking Sheikh. Utaiba's rough hands reached out and with strength no mere human possessed he took hold of the ropes and snapped them like twine. Gently, more gently than his emotionless face might have implied he lifted Quinn up and set her on her feet. He pushed strands of blond hair back from her face and tucked them behind her ear. " _El'bah_ , what did you do?" Her hands free, she pressed them to her chest where that silver light had been absorbed, she wasn't sure but she thought she felt a warmth there, next to her heart.

"It will be alright, _Aziir_." The words were monotone, a slow deliberateness to them like the creature speaking had forgotten how language was supposed to work and could barely manage more than getting them out of their mouth. Utaiba's face tried what might have been a comforting smile if creatures like this knew how to smile. "You will be protected." Quinn nodded mutely, too confused and afraid to ask the thousand questions flying through her mind.

"No!" Quinn saw the hammer swing toward Utaiba's back a moment before it hit with a muted _thwack_ into his shoulder. The wide eyed Sheikh stood there, hammer in hand as the weight brought Utaiba to the ground. "I won't let an abomination of N'sar's will live! I'll destroy you both!" His eyes still wide, he dragged the hammer back to swing again. Utaiba started to rise, the bloody imprint from the hammer's head rippling as the muscles strained to their former use. Quinn backed away, hands still clasped over the warmth in her chest.

The warriors that had accompanied Sabikhat into the tent seemed to finally find some semblance of sanity and drew their scimitars as their Sheikh drew up the hammer above his head once more. Still struggling to stand, Utaiba found Quinn's eyes and he gave that strange emotionless smile again, trying to comfort her. "It will be alright." The hammer fell, with a triumphant shout from Sabikhat and split Utaiba's skull. The creature, still struggling to find its feet fell still and the Sheikh's crazed eyes turned toward Quinn.

"Now, you! You'll join your mother and this sick thrall in Besheba's hells!" Quinn couldn't see him, instead she stared at the bloody mess on the ground. Unmoving, the body looked so very small. So...empty. That had been a man. A good man. That had been, in ways deeper than blood, her father and he had loved her _so very much_. He had traded glory for her. He had traded honor for her. His whole life, as a young hunter free to do has he wished had been given up _for her_.

Something inside Quinn snapped. Some primal thing that had hidden inside her welled up, suffused her, and clawed its way free like some creature that had always been waiting for exactly this moment to be unleashed. Darkness, deep and unrelenting, fell and the hungry rage inside her was let loose. Quinn _howled_ , a raw deluge of emotion ripping from a throat that couldn't feel it's own rending at the sound. With a lunge she threw herself at the man responsible for her pain and they tumbled into a fire that could no longer fight what darkness Quinn had summoned.

Heat without light surrounded them and the Sheikh screamed but Quinn didn't burn. Her hands found his throat and squeezed off his screams. She squeezed until she felt his throat crushed in her hands and his struggles fell still. The scent of burnt hair and flesh filled the tent and Quinn looked toward the warriors still remaining.

They held their hands, swords drawn, out before them as if completely blind but Quinn could see. Suddenly, eyes that had always seemed just a bit too good in the darkness were far more. She grabbed Utaiba's hammer from the ground, it felt light and balanced in her hands as she threw her entire weight and the hammer's into the first warrior's head. There was a brief flash of flame before its light was swallowed by the darkness and the man fell, burning to the ground.

Quinn kept moving, rage giving her a strength and dexterity that her smaller frame shouldn't possess. The next man managed to raise his sword and it shattered as the earthbreaker plowed through the weapon directly into it's wielder. Quinn didn't even stop to check if he was dead as she stepped over him toward the tent's exit. The darkness followed her.

She stepped out of the tent into fresh desert air away from the scent of blood and burning flesh and faced the Raz'hadi summoned by their Sheikh's dying screams. They shuffled nervously as her darkness fell over them and Quinn hefted her hammer, summoning something within her rage that had always been there- always waiting-that she'd never dared touch before. She called on the flame of her anger, the acid sting of her pain, on the cold emptiness of her loss and from deep inside her they answered.

Men and women fell before her and her father's hammer while Quinn raged, grateful that the thoughts and the reality of what had happened couldn't penetrate her fury. Couldn't stop her. Each warrior that stepped forward fell. Some in flames, some burned with acid, others frozen in ice, others still writhing as they were speared by Kozah's lightning.

Quinn raged and Raz'hadi fell and she marched through them toward the open desert. Soon, far too soon, Quinn ran out of people to hit. She looked around, seeking someone else to face her but she found herself alone and further from the camp than she'd thought. Quinn fell to her knees, bloodied and exhausted as she leaned against the hammer for support.

The darkness around her faded and soft starlight fell over her. " _El'bah_!" her voice was weak and cracked with the sob as she found herself hugging the earthbreaker hammer to her chest. Desperate for the closeness of the man that had been her father. _What did you do!?_ she cried for a long time, her tears falling into the desert sands before the exhaustion finally sapped her of energy for even that.

She sat numbly, cradling the hammer like a child with a beloved doll. What would she do now? It was unlikely that she'd be welcomed back to the Qahtan, especially if the survivors of this Raz'hadi band started spreading word of the blond woman with a great big hammer that killed their Sheikh. Even if Sabikhat had deserved it, Zarud wouldn't be able to protect her and Quinn would only put all the Qahtan in danger. _Besides, now I'm some sort of monster that doesn't burn and can shoot lightning from her hammer..._ If they'd considered her and outsider before...no, she needed somewhere else.

She looked down at her hands, remembering her battle in bits and flashes. Darkness had fallen, ice and flame had answered her call. Maybe her mother really had been a demon . What _was_ she? Perhaps the Qahtan had always been right to keep her at arm's length. She _was_ different from them, different from everything she'd ever known or been taught.

Unbidden the smiling face of Jairalen came to mind and with his face, his words: _Different doesn't have to be wrong._ Yes, that's what she'd do. She'd seek out the Qahtan and Shadovar that had survived and ask to join Jairalen, to join Mr. Jay. Sabikhat hadn't known about the magical water decanters; if enough of them had survived the fighting then there was a chance that they'd make it to the next oasis and if Musalim still lived she had an idea of where he'd take them.


End file.
